District 10
by thesmokelives
Summary: A series of one-shots taking a look at the fallen tributes of the 74th Hunger Games, from their reapings to their ultimate demise. Featuring Foxface, the boy with the bad leg from District 10, the boy who rigged the landmines, Thresh, and more.
1. District 10

I knew as soon as my name was chosen, that I was going to die.

I was so embarrassed when it happened. I know it took me twice as long to reach the podium as it had for my female counterpart. My leg dragged behind me, slowing me down here in my own district just as much as it would in the arena. I looked to Betty for support. At first she smiled, then she cast her eyes away from me, not wanting to seem weak on camera.

I didn't exactly have that option.

I wondered if my death would be quick. Painless. I wondered if Betty would win for our district. I wondered how my parents would handle the loss, with no other children to take my place. Would they wake up hours before dawn, feeding the animals? I wondered a lot.

For years I had helped my parents lead our cattle to the slaughter.

It didn't take a genius to realize the irony of my situation.

I'm sure I must have cried the first night. I know Betty did—I could hear her through the walls of the train. I debated for hours about going there, comforting her. But it didn't matter—we would be enemies soon. Eventually her cries turned to whimpering, and I was able to get a little bit of sleep before I was awoken by Prudence Merriman, a small, dark-skinned woman with more hair than head. She was perky—too perky—and I had to stifle my vomit every time she mentioned her "excitement."

I was so conflicted. On one hand, I wanted to die already. Make it over with. Make it so I didn't have to be paraded around like a slab of meat ready for auction. I deserved better than that. So did Betty—even though I didn't know her, I had seen her around before. She was always happy.

She didn't look happy anymore.

I tried to give her lots of reassuring smiles throughout our training, but she never returned them. I think she must have been trying to seem tough to the other opponents. There was already a pair of tributes acting like best friends, and I don't think she wanted to seem weak.

Well, there was no hiding it for me.

My ankle had been broken one year when my family tried to keep one of the cattle for milk. We had been so hungry, and were sure the peacekeepers wouldn't notice one missing. But they were all branded, and when they noticed a number was missing, they came to our home to find Gretchen tied behind our house. They were going to take me to the slaughterhouse, but one of the peacekeepers, who must have had more of a heart than the rest of them, insisted they take me out to the fields instead. So I was left, five miles from home, lying in a pile of manure with an ankle bone sticking half an inch out of my skin. My parents found me, almost dead from gangrene, and brought me to a healer.

I half wish I died right there. At least then I would have died at home, in the fields I loved to work in.

Betty told me her strategy was to be brutal. To hack and slice and beat her way to victory. I envy her. My mentor didn't even bother giving me a strategy. Instead, he just told me to stay away from the careers. He said maybe if someone kinder finds me, they can make it quick.

And now, standing on the platform, hearing those sixty seconds counting down, I take time to look at my fellow tributes, and wonder who would be the one to end it quickly. There's a small, dark skinned girl who looks like she wouldn't be able to kill a fly, and next to her, a massive brute of a guy staring people down. I hope I don't die at his hands. A few people down, I see one of the tributes from District 12, a girl with a long braid and nervous, darting eyes. Her district partner is looking at her, shaking his head.

Who will be the one to kill me?

When the gong sounds, I gingerly lower myself from the platform, and start moving towards the forest. I don't bother with supplies. I'm hoping I'll be dead before I need any. I turn, just for a moment, to see what is going on in the Cornucopia. People are dying left and right, at least five so far. Maybe I should have run in there—it might have ended more quickly for me.

I'm just about to turn back towards the forest when I hear Betty scream.

The brutish guy from before rips the spear from her body, preparing to hurl it at someone else.

Betty won't be the one to win for our district.

But I can't win. I know I can't. Not with my leg.

I keep hobbling into the woods, going for a few hours until the ache in my leg becomes too great. I sit under a tree, panting and sweating. I'm thirsty, I know that. But I don't have any supplies. As crazy as it seems, I'm actually able to fall asleep for an hour or so before I hear a twig breaking behind me. I look around, but the woods seem deserted. A twig falls from the tree above me, and all I can see is a mop of bright red hair, and two shifty eyes looking at me. I almost sigh a breath of relief. It's almost over.

"You can come down," I tell her. "I don't have any weapons." I throw my hands up to show her, and a few moments later I hear her scurrying down the tree towards me. I lean my head against the trunk of the tree, closing my eyes and waiting. I open them after a minute or so to see the girl crouched in front of me, sizing me up.

"What? Just do it already. You don't have to stare at me." She looks confused, then lets out a breath.

"You thought I was going to kill you?" Her eyes are still shifting around me, no doubt looking for the weapon I don't have.

"That's kind of the point, isn't it? You kill me, someone kills you." Eventually she crosses her legs, her shoulders relaxing.

"I don't really plan on killing anyone unless I have to." The girl looks down, almost with shame. Has she already killed somebody? If so, why is she taking so long with me?

"I'm Trenton." I say, without really meaning to. "I'm from District 10."

"I know who you are." She says, "I know all of you." This girl surprises me. While I've been moping around waiting for death, she has figured out every last tribute. I don't even know any of their names, other than Betty. "And I'm Echo. District 5." I nod, and both of us sit there, waiting for the other to strike.

Nothing happens.

Instead, Echo slowly opens her jacket, revealing a small packet of crackers. She tosses them to me and stands up, offering her hand. I'm still staring at the crackers.

"Come on, it will be dark soon. We should find somewhere more confined to settle in."

And just like that, I have an ally.

We eventually find a small cave to hide in a mile or so from where we were. Echo says it's hidden enough that we won't be found, but I'm still nervous. I can hardly see her in the dark, but I know that she has sat beside me. She holds her hand out, and I place a cracker in it.

"So how old are you?" She asks me. I'm not sure if I want her to know these things about me. But if I die, I figure someone should remember me.

"Fourteen." I reply, and I hear her exhale.

"Seventeen." She replies. I'm shocked, but I don't let on. Echo doesn't look more than my age, at most. We talk for a couple of hours, pausing every time we hear a noise in the forest. Eventually I get an idea.

"I don't want them to kill me." She doesn't reply, but I can tell she nods.

"I know."

"Echo you have to promise me something. If they come for us…"

"That's a stupid thing to ask me. I'm not doing it." She says it so sharply I'm taken aback.

"But-"

"No buts. I'm not killing you just because you're scared of the careers." I can feel my eyes starting to well up with tears, but I don't make a sound. To be honest, I thought Echo might have been the answer to my problems. Now that I know her, I won't have to be afraid of dying. And I knew if she did it, it wouldn't hurt.

"I know I'm weak, Echo. I know it. I know I'm not going to win, so please…" I can hear her breathing pick up, can tell she's thinking about it. I decide to push her one more time.

"Let me die on my own terms. Not like Betty did."

That gets her.

"Fine. I'll do it. But…" She can't think of anything to say. "Fine." She says again.

It turns out that Echo had a lot more supplies than the crackers. We have enough to keep both of us eating for four or five days, and she eventually has to tell me to shut up because I can't stop thanking her. We spend our days talking—about our childhoods, our homes, our families… everything that will be forgotten if and when we die.

It's two days later when we hear the thumping of feet in the distance.

And suddenly, it's like I'm not ready to die. Even though I knew it was coming, I'm not ready. Please just give me one more day. One more hour. One more chance to talk with Echo. But Echo is already packing up her things—all but a single blade. Her only weapon against multiple feet. But they're far off—she has at least five minutes before their shouts and footsteps meet our cave.

And then, Echo does something remarkable.

She pulls me to the wall of the cave, and I can feel her hands trembling. She sits with her back leaning against it, and pulls me towards her so I'm almost sitting on her lap. She wraps her arms around me, the knife still in her hand. I can feel her heartbeat, and I realize how incredibly _alive_ she is, how warm her skin is as blood pulses underneath it, filling it with life.

Life I know I won't have much longer.

She pulls me closer to her, hugging me from behind. Her head rests on my shoulder.

"Are you sure?" is the only thing she says to me.

"Yes." I croak. She puts the blade to my throat and I close my eyes.

"Echo, I hope you win. Please win."

"I will."

"Thank you."

And so I nod.


	2. District 3

_**Tributes of the 74**__**th**__** Hunger Games: My thanks to the people of District 3.**_

All my life, my dad taught me about integrity.

He said it was the most important thing a man could have, and that even though I wasn't a man yet, I would be someday.

I guess that someday would be today.

When my name was called for the reaping, I looked to my dad for support. But he was hardly paying attention to me; he was too busy trying to keep my mother from causing a scene. Peacekeepers were already looking in their direction. I guess I understood.

I'm not sure how I made my way to the stage, or anything the mayor said after that. One minute I was standing next to my classmates, and the next I'm sitting in a room, waiting to say goodbye to my family. My mom came first. She hugged me, and cried, and hugged me more. She was so hysterical we never really had a chance to say anything meaningful to each other. I wish I could have said goodbye properly. Eventually she was dragged out of the room by a Peacekeeper, and replaced by my dad.

"Forget what I told ya." I stared at him, not understanding.

"I said forget it. 'Bout integrity. Forget that. There ain't gonna be no integrity in that arena, so you do whatever the hell it is you need to do to survive. You got it?" I was still a little confused, but I nodded. Survive. Seemed simple enough. But my dad wasn't done yet. He looked around the room, then hugged me, hard. His mouth was right next to my ear, and before I could pull away he kept talking.

"I know you only worked in the factories a year, but you know more than most men who've worked there a lifetime. There'll be bombs. Use them." He lets me go, and I exhale, not aware that I had been holding my breath.

"What? What are you talking about?" But already two Peacekeepers were walking into the room, grabbing my dad and moving him towards the door. He yelled something else at me but he was already through the door, yelling to the back of the wood panelling.

And before I knew it he was gone, and I was just left with Harlen, who might have been the best friend I've ever had. I sat there dumbly, expecting some speech about how much we've been through, how much he's going to miss me. Instead, he put his hand on my shoulder and mumbled good luck. Then he left. He was trying to distance himself from me; I knew it, and I guess it made sense, but it didn't stop me from bawling like a five-year old the moment he left.

I had nobody.

I barely remember what happened before the games. My district partner, Pruce and I were suited up in black tunics with little blinking lights and electrical currents. But nobody noticed. Instead, everyone paid attention to the District 12 tributes. I didn't really care. I was trying to decipher what my dad had said about bombs. There were never bombs in the game. It was all about hand-to-hand combat, that's what was supposed to make it interesting to the audience. But something lingered in the back of my mind, something I didn't remember until after the gong had sounded.

And now, I feel like more of a man than ever. I feel like there's nothing that's going to keep me from surviving, not with what I know about what's sitting right under my feet. When the gong sounds, I run to the edge of the forest, half-burying myself underground, and waiting. The Careers will take the Cornucopia. They always do.

I know I should have talked to them in training, before they were allowed to kill me. But I never knew I would have to team up with them. I'm sure the people in my district aren't happy, but I suppose that's what happens when you let go of your integrity.

So I wait, and wait, and wait, until eleven names flash in the sky. Eventually I sleep, shielded from the cold by the leaves and moss on top of me. I wake up around dawn, and I can see a few figures moving around the cornucopia, and I suddenly realize how terrifying this situation is. If I come at them wrong, they'll kill me. If I do anything, they'll probably kill me. But I have to get to the bombs. I have to get on their good side if I'm going to live.

I squirm out of my little tunnel, and slowly stand up. A girl with long dark hair begins walking towards me, but instead I see she is headed to the lake. When I'm sure she's the only one around, I slowly come out of the woods. Immediately she has a knife in her hands, but I waste no time on subtleties.

"I can rig the landmines." She pauses, but the knife is still aimed at me.

"What do you mean, rig them?" She practically spits at me.

"The landmines in the middle. We make them in District 3. I can reactivate them. But you have to trust me. I have nothing." As if to show her, I spin very slowly in a circle, hoping I don't soon feel a knife in my back. She nods slowly, then motions for me to walk beside her.

"I'm Arwen." The girl just turns and glares. I don't say anything else until I'm asked to. She brings me to the careers, and I suddenly realize what a stupid decision it was to run into them like this. A blonde guy I recognize as Cato steps towards me, his face only inches from mine.

"Who the hell is this kid?" I wipe his spit off of my face and take a step backwards.

"Says his name's Arwen. He also says he can reactivate the landmines. I figure we need something to guard our stuff anyway, so…" She trails off, and I can tell she's uncertain of her decision to bring me here. If I wasn't so sure she would kill me, I would reassure her or something.

But Cato seems happy. He tells me that if I can do this, I'll be guaranteed a spot in at least the top 6. After that, I'm on my own. It isn't perfect, but it's better than nothing. I'm introduced to Cato, Clove (the girl from the lake), Marvel, Glimmer, and Tiree. The five of them are brutal, each one capable of killing me with a single flick of the wrist. But I don't think about that as we dig out the landmines, gathering them in a pile around the supplies.

It's brutal work, but I get food and safety in return. I can almost imagine I'm back in the factories, checking the landmines for the proper fail safes. I work all day, carefully setting the mines back in the ground, fully active. I set them in a pattern, so that anyone who wants supplies has to follow the pattern, or get blown to bits. It's not a nice job, and it's not how I wanted to put my skills to use, but in the arena it seems to be my only option. And, by the end of the day, I'm actually a little bit proud of my work.

The next few days are as easy as days could be in the arena. I am allowed to hang around and guard the Career's camp, and eat whenever I like.

I could have stayed like that for the rest of the games.

The Careers go out searching, and Peeta offers to help me guard the camp. I know that the others don't trust him after he and his district partner pretended to be in love, but I like him more than the others. He seems much more approachable, so when he offers to stay behind, I don't have the same nervous apprehension as with the others. As soon as they are out of earshot, he turns to me.

"I'm not like them."

"I know," I reply, though I don't know why he's telling me this.

"You have to promise me something." I nod before I realize I shouldn't promise him anything. I don't owe him anything.

"If you see her, warn her about the mines. Please. I can't think of her dying… like that. Please." He looks desperate, like his own life depends on the next word I say. But I need to survive. I need to forget about integrity. But how can I look at him like that, and tell him that if it came down to it, I would let her die? I can't.

So I lie.

"Yes," I say, trying hard to meet his eye. "I promise I'll warn her." I want to vomit with how relieved he looks, but I say nothing more as he runs to catch up with the rest of the Careers.

I spend the evening sharpening my spear, and watching the clouds. When I get to relax like this, it's almost like I'm back home. Like I can forget I'm being hunted.

Though to be honest, I feel like so far I'm surviving pretty well.

When the cannon blasts, I feel like razor blades just sliced across every nerve in my body, I stand up, looking around frantically. But nobody is there.

Until nightfall.

When they've recovered from their stings, I see that Tiree and Glimmer are gone. I feel a pang of sadness; Glimmer wasn't really a Career; she just tagged along with the rest of them. She wasn't very smart, but…

No.

Those are the games.

That's how this works.

It takes me a full half hour before I realize that Peeta's gone too.

Was there another cannon?

Did I not hear it?

Maybe he's okay…

"I know where I cut him."

Maybe not.

I try really hard to forget about integrity, but I can't shake the loss I feel at Peeta's death. Did he see Katniss? Did he get to say goodbye? I hope so.

I guess I should be angry at Katniss and her friend. But I can't be. Not after Peeta. Not after his death. I can't.

When the fires start, I know something is up. Nobody left in the games could be that dumb. But the Careers are already yelling at me to grab my spear and follow them, and before I realize it I'm panicking.

Not because I'm afraid to fight.

Not because I'm afraid to die.

Because I'm afraid I might not be able to warn Katniss about the bombs.

We keep chasing the fires, even though it's obvious it's a trap.

We're running and running and running and it's the most work I've had to do since I was on the farm, and suddenly I realize how much of a disadvantage I'm at. After about an hour of straight running, the ground seems to rumble underneath me.

And Cato _finally_ figures it out.

He slams into me as the group turns around, sprinting even faster back the way we came. I eventually start to trail behind, but Marvel notices and pushes me in front of him.

"If this has something to do with you, Cato's gunna want to take care of you."

And then _I _realize.

If someone blew up the food, however unlikely, Cato will kill me.

I'm going to die as soon as we reach that camp, unless I can do something to change it. Marvel is pushing me along, with Cato and Clove ahead. The entire time, my head is reeling, looking for any way for me to get away. But there's no way I could take on all three of them. We slow down, the running finally taking a toll on us. I've finally accepted that there is no way out of this; I am going to die. Instead of looking at the people who will be responsible, I look to the ground, watching my feet stamp around the wet ground.

But…

What was that? Right around the corner.

_Katniss!_

I see her crouched on the ground, half buried under a strange little alcove created by the earth. And my mind does something, right then.

If I point Katniss out to Cato, he might save me.

If I don't, I'll die.

One option guarantees my life, the other my integrity.

I wonder if the cameras have captured what I've seen.

If back home, people are watching.

My parents.

I wonder if when they replay these games, they'll show what I did.

And how I kept my integrity right until the end.


	3. District 11

_**Tributes of the 74**__**th**__** Hunger Games: My thanks to the people of District 11.**_

To be honest, I wasn't really paying attention when my name was called. I was looking at my brother Omer. I could see his hands itching to volunteer. Wanting to take my place. His eyes were so angry and intense that even I was slightly rattled by them. But when Omer turns in my direction, seeming really confused, I don't really know what to make of it.

Then a really overweight woman begins chirping something, and I realize the entire district is looking at me. My face is on a massive screen, next to a little girl.

It takes me what seems like fifteen minutes to figure out what's happened. I can see Omer begin to step forward, but his friend pulls him back.

They keep arguing while I step on the stage.

I don't know Omer's friend, but I'm glad he didn't try and volunteer. He's always been violent. Bloodthirsty. He would shame our entire family if he went on those games, and I don't think my parents would be able to handle the types of things I think he is capable of doing. So instead I get onto that damn stage, with a million things going through my head. Who will my allies be? Who will I have to kill? I look to the little girl next to me and my gut flips with the thought of someone killing her. I know Omer would have taken her place, and there's a small part of me that wished he could. My mind keeps whirling until my parents have left me, and Omer takes their place, ready to say goodbye.

"Did you rig it?" I had no idea what he was asking me.

"I asked you if you fucking rigged it!" Omer grabbed my arm hard, and I ripped it from him. It wasn't the time to fight with him.

"You can't rig the reaping, you know that." I tried to be calm, but I could feel my temper getting to the best of me. I clenched my fists together and closed my eyes, hoping he would drop it.

"I'm going to go to the games."

"I know. Just not this year."

"Don't fucking taunt me."

"I'm not." A Peacekeeper walked in the room, pointing Omer towards the exit. He shot me one dirty look before turning around.

"Take care of our parents." I know that Omer and I never really got along, but I hoped that he would at least take care of my mother and father. But his non-existent answer was enough to tell me he wouldn't. He was always selfish, and most likely always would be. I was just thankful we didn't have any other siblings; I was sure Omer would make them pay for his own senseless anger.

I hadn't thought much about the games themselves until the first night on the train. Mostly I thought about home, and how Omer was dealing with his jealousy. I didn't care anymore if he did something stupid. As far as the Capitol was concerned, I was no longer his brother.

So I just laid down on my bed—no, not my bed—and thought about these things until I heard a soft shuffling outside the door. At first I thought it was that infuriating Peaches woman, back to hound me over something. But instead there was no knock on my door. I got out of bed very slowly, hoping to take whoever was on the other side of the door by surprise.

"Uh, what?" I said, looking at the little girl from the reaping. Her eyes went right to my fist, which was clenched and hanging midair, ready to swing. I let it drop, feeling stupid for being so paranoid. She balances on the tips of her feet, but still doesn't come within two feet of the top of my head.

"Hi Thresh." Her voice was so quiet I could hardly hear it. I realized I felt really awkward around this girl, and didn't really know why. She peeked around my shoulder, and I can tell she wants to come into my suite. So I stepped out of her way and sat on my bed, waving her inside. Her eyes kept darting around like she was waiting for some kind of trap, and I didn't have the energy to reassure her. I figured she'd get the hint eventually when nothing came springing out of the panelling. I looked up and there she was, just staring at me like I'm supposed to have all the answers for her.

"I asked you what you wanted." I know I should have been nicer to her, but I had so many of my own worries that I couldn't be bothered. Her eyes left mine and kept moving around, and for a minute I didn't realize she had said something.

"What?"

"I asked you what it feels like knowing you have a chance." I didn't know what to say; I hadn't even considered the possibility of winning. I looked at the girl and realized how defeated she must feel next to me. I was six foot one, two hundred and seventy-five pounds of muscle. I had to be with Omer around. If I wasn't there to stop him from being the psychopath he was, he would have been killed years ago. Long days of working in wheat fields had provided me with all the exercise I could ever need. She, meanwhile, barely cleared five feet, and though she didn't look weak for her age, I hardly thought she could take on some of the more brutal tributes.

"Like shit." I replied, not realizing I had sworn. Our family hadn't cared much for manners.

"I'm Rue."

"Oh. Thresh."

"I know." The awkward silence between us grew and grew, and I started wondering why she came to my cabin. Eventually she jumped off of her perch, and walked towards the door.

"I hope you win." I couldn't think of anything to say back so I just said, "You too." Even though we both know she won't win.

When I watched the recap of the Reaping, I saw the people I knew would be the Careers, and I immediately knew I wasn't going to be a part of them. The leader of the group, Cato, reminded me too much of Omer. The girl from District 1 actually giggles when she gets chosen, as if all of this was just too much excitement for her.

Yeah, I definitely didn't want to get involved with them.

When I went to breakfast the next morning, Peaches was already waiting for me. There was more food on those tables than most families ate in a week, but I shovelled as much of it as possible into my mouth, hoping to bulk up as much as possible. Peaches started rambling about strategy to Rue, but I already knew mine.

I wasn't going to play their fucking games.

My strategy would be to win. That's it. I wasn't going to form alliances, I wasn't going to chat it up with Caesar in the interviews. Rue was the only one I wouldn't kill—unless it came down to just the two of us, of course.

If the Capitol wanted a show, they sure as hell weren't going to get it from me.

"And so I was thinking, Thresh, that maybe you could think about forming an alliance!" Peaches was so thrilled with having someone as sweet and childlike as Rue on her team, that she had hardly paid any attention to me since I arrived. It took me a moment to answer her.

"No." I could see Peaches eyelids fluttering, like she had never heard the word before in her life. She probably hadn't.

"Well," she continued, trying to salvage her pride, "What about a 'thing"? You know, something that makes you stand out from the other tributes."

"No." I kept my face down, not giving her the privilege of eye contact. I heard a small noise, and thought Rue might have actually laughed at me, though I couldn't be sure. Eventually Peaches gave up on asking me questions and turned me over to my mentor, who made such a small impact on me I couldn't remember his name. Not that it really mattered; I was going to say as little as possible to these creatures, and when I got home… Well, I didn't really know how that would work out, but I _would_ be going home.

I kept giving people the silent treatment all the way through the interviews and feasts, though I didn't fight with them. If they wanted me to wear some shimmery green tuxedo, I would wear it. I didn't need to get disqualified for punching someone in the face. There would be plenty of time for that later. Rue and I talked here and there, but never for very long. Neither of us were much for talking, and I didn't need to get attached to anybody. I thought it was stupid how chummy the District 12 tributes were being, when at some point one of them would have to tear the other's throat out. Cato tried to approach me at one point, but I kindly declined his offer. I don't think he was very happy about that.

And now it seems like time has flown by; I take a look at my competitors around me, catching sight of Cato and scowling. There's a bag of some kind sitting about twenty feet from me; I set my sights on it. I'm not going to run into this battle unprepared, but I don't need to fight with Cato for supplies. I see a wheat field to my right—the perfect place to start. When the gong sounds, I take off, not taking notice of anything going on around me. Within ten minutes I'm deep into the field, the sweet smell reminding me of past work, and the work ahead of me.

I kill two people before the first day is over.

And the saddest part is, I don't even know which ones I kill. So many names are in the sky tonight, and the faces all look so similar that I don't know who they are. I think one of them might have been from District 8, but I don't know. I ignore the stupid anthem and make camp for the night, nibbling on some wheat when I get bored.

Five days pass with me doing nothing—just sitting in the wheat field eating and sleeping. I find an irrigation system running through the field, so I have no need to search for water .If people come looking for me, I'll kill them, but right now I'm pretty much fine doing what I'm doing.

Not that I don't keep track of things—I know who's alive and who's dead, more or less. Cato and Clove are still alive, and so are both of the District 12 tributes. Rue is alive too.

I see some interesting things that can only be explained by the dead in the sky. Thick grey smoke and curling flames licking the tops of trees. Tons of screaming. I kill one more person, and don't realize until the names flash that it was the girl from District 8's partner.

When I see Rue's name in the sky, somehow I know the Careers are responsible.

Now I decide to act; I get angry, angrier than I've been in a really long time. I know my temper can get out of control, but this is beyond anything. It's like a red hot brand all over my stomach, making me so ready to kill it almost scares me. I' m so blinded by this that I don't even notice when a boy jumps at me from a tree, pointing the mouth of some kind of snake into my face. I thrash around, not sure whether to hit the kid or the snake, and by the time I've wrestled him to the ground, I have four neat bite marks on my cheek. I snap the kid's neck, and immediately start feeling heavy, like my arms and legs weigh a million pounds. I look at the snake, which is also dead, and wonder if there's any way to save myself. I wonder how the kid knew it was poisonous.

I guess everything in here is a weapon.

I fall into a little alcove surrounded by wheat and fall asleep. I don't know how long I'm like this, or how many more people die. I drift in and out of a horrible, painful sleep full of nightmares and pain. When I do wake up, I find out that all of my muscles have seized up, making it almost impossible to move. A few hours after the fever starts, I hear music. Before I can wonder why there's music playing in the arena, I hear Claudius Templesmith's voice telling me about a feast.

How there will be something there for me.

Something I need.

I spend at least an hour stretching each muscle in my body, trying as hard as I can to make my muscles stop cramping.

After about two hours I can stand, and after another fifteen minutes I can walk, slowly.

My brain is too muddled to think of a strategy. I just know there's a backpack. With something that will make me able to fight. I'm lucky to have lived this long.

I walk through the rest of the night, using nearby trees to steady myself once I get out of the field. I have to bend over and vomit a few times when the world tips too much.

I stop myself just short of revealing where I am. I see the ground moving near the Cornucopia, but I can't remember why.

Something about… a backpack.

Then there's a flash of red when someone takes off towards the ground that isn't moving any more. They're gone before I can realize what's happened, but I know that if I don't get that backpack, something bad is going to happen to me. So I start hobbling towards it, not caring about position, or strategy, or anything else.

I'm about to reach the table when a girl runs in front of me, grabbing a little pouch. I can't tell who it is, but instead I unzip the bag with a little 11 drawn on it and pull out a syringe. Without wasting time, I shove it into my arm, ignoring the screaming around me. Almost immediately I can start seeing things again. I see Katniss lying on the ground, with Clove on top of her. I'm walking away when I hear her say something about Rue.

My temper snaps. I run over to her as quickly as possible and yank her off of Katniss, yelling and screaming things I can't keep track of as the anti-venom works its way through me. Before I can really tell what's happening, I pick up a rock and bash it into her head as hard as I can.

I look at Katniss and start yelling at her too, even though somewhere I know I'm not supposed to kill her. She starts talking about singing to Rue, and I feel that red hot burning come back before I realize it's not her I'm feeling it towards. I say something else to her and run off back into the woods, towards the field of grain.

Towards sleep.

I'm dreaming of Omer and home and fields of grain and Rue and singing and snakes and I just have time to hear a twig snap-


	4. District 1

My thanks to the people of District 1.

I've been trying to think of a comparison for Reaping Day, but there really isn't one. For us, it is the biggest day of the year. Bigger than a birthday, or the new year all put together. A group of four friends and I had been planning on what we were going to do for months. We bought all the best fabrics and jewels to make all the best dresses, and planned everything down to the most minute and intricate detail. How do we wear our hair? Nothing that blocks a view of our face. How about our make-up? Something striking and bold—you don't want anyone to forget you.

So the night before the Reaping my gown was hung on the back of my bedroom door, along with the shoes, jewellery and accessories that would accompany it. I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. I was seventeen, and time was running out for me to win. I had been practicing fencing with my friends for over eight years, and had been running track for five. I figured I had a better shot than almost anyone in Panem, and it was that thought that finally lulled me to sleep.

I woke up a full hour before the sun was up, and spent the time making sure everything was perfect. By the time the sun rose, I was just starting to get myself ready. My mother walked in just as I smoothed the final layer of yellow-orange taffeta over myself.

"Mother!" I growled, tossing a cushion in her direction. "I'm getting changed, can't you knock?" I knew my nerves were getting to me, but I couldn't afford for anything to go wrong. Mother ignored my comment, looking instead to my gown. Looking down, I saw that the sun was filtering through the fabric, an orange light pooling at my feet like a stained glass mosaic.

"You look beautiful," she breathed, but I was already shutting the door, trying to get at the brush that lay behind it. I planned for my hair to be swept up—it meant no risk of the wind blowing it around. By the time I had finished perfecting my look, I only had twenty minutes before father's company car would arrive to take us to the square. I suppose I did look beautiful, though I wished my dress had been slightly less bulky. I smoothed it over one last time, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind my ear before slipping on my shoes and heading downstairs.

Father's car swooped over the square, a patchwork quilt of taffeta and silk. The screens were lit up with images of children throwing confetti, cheering for their siblings or wishing each other luck. Dessie Fireswitch rose to the podium shortly after I found my place, to a booming applause by everyone in the square. I squeezed by friend's hand, and felt her squeeze back. Charm was wearing a dress made of dark plums and blacks, which I thought was silly—she would never be noticed in something that dark. After many speeches and introductions, Dessie proclaimed her famous "ladies first" and swooshed her hand around the bowl before plucking out a small slip of paper.

"Charm Maywater!" Charm cursed outwardly, but plastered on a smile as the cameras panned to her. I felt sorry for her, but knew that my odds had increased slightly. The one to be called was never the one who went. There were always volunteers. But Charm was forced to walk to the podium anyway, her black hair swept up in a style suspiciously like mine. Dessie shook her hand, then declared it time for volunteers.

It was then that I stretched my hand up as high as I could, along with about two hundred other girls. The cameras automatically panned to our section—preference was given to older ages—and we all put on our best smiles. Already tall, I smiled inwardly at my choice of four-inch heels—I could already see over most of my competitors.

The camera panned from face to face for a painful thirty seconds before Dessie's finger finally rose, and pointed to me.

"You, young lady, will represent your District during the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games!" For a moment I was frozen. I didn't realize that Dessie had said my name. But then I felt someone push me, and I was able to move forward. While some of the girls looked resentful, the rest of the crowd cheered.

"Young lady, what is your name?" Dessie asked me, helping me up to the stage.

"Glimmer. Glimmer Flightworth."

"Glimmer Flightworth, everybody!" The applause was deafening; I was smiling so hard I thought my jaw would crack. This was it. The moment I had been waiting for. Dessie called a boy named Marvel to the stage, but I was hardly paying attention. I just couldn't believe it; I had won! Of all these people, with all of these odds stacked against me, I had been the one to come out on top.

Just then, something blocked out the sun, causing me to look up.

It was a hovercar. Just like father's, but much larger.

I closed my eyes as its claw was lowered toward me, but not before a quick young girl yanked the quiver of arrows from under my back, then sped off into the woods.


End file.
